Relative Strangers
by Mirrored Illusions
Summary: Agent Gibbs recieves a letter from the 'Northern Californian Woman's Facility'. Disclaimer: Neither BtVS nor NCIS belong to me.
1. First Contact

**Relative Strangers**

Jethro had finally gotten around to reading his mail, or as McGee so eloquently put it: snailmail. He got enough email at work, thank you very much; he didn't need one of the stupid machines at home as well so he could be bothered by them after hours.

He flipped through pile. Bill, bill, junk, junk, junk, postcard from Mike Franks, more junk mail, another bill, and a plain white letter.

He frowned at the unknown letter before he skimmed the postcard from Mike. Afterwards he flipped the letter, and in a neat, clearly female, hand was the name '_Faith Lehane'_ followed by '_Northern Californian Woman's Facility, Stockton, California'._ His eyes narrowed. Why would one of the inmates there write him a letter? And who the hell was Faith Lehane?

Giving in to his curiosity he ripped the envelope open and pulled out a single sheet of paper. The handwriting was the same as the address, and when he turned it he saw that there was no writing there.

_Leroy Jethro Gibbs,_

_Hello, my name is Faith Lehane. You don't know me, but you might remember my mother. Her name would've been Christine Rodriguez back then, and she lived in Boston. She was eccentric if you want to be nice, but mostly she was just a crazy bitch too busy getting drunk to give a fuck about anything. Including me._

Jethro stared at the text. What the hell was this?

_If you don't remember her then you're probably seriously confused right about now, but let me put it in plain text for you: According to Christine you're my biological father. Of course she said the same thing about several other men, so don't put too much stock in it. However, given that the other "candidates" are criminal low-lives I hope you're the real one. Not that it matters, but at least someone in this fucked up family should be sane and it wasn't her and it certainly isn't me._

He put down the postcard he had still been holding before he went downstairs to his basement, where he rummaged around a little until he found the scotch and a glass. After emptying the glass of its contents and quickly rinsing it, he poured the scotch in and swallowed it all down in one go before he refilled it.

_Mom met a nice man named Sammy Lehane when I was five and married him shortly after. He adopted me, which is why I have his name instead of Rodriguez, or, I suppose, Gibbs. Sammy disappeared when I was nine. No one told me anything, but mom graduated to the hard drugs four months later so it's safe to say it didn't end well. My life just got worse and worse after that._

_In short: I recently admitted to two counts of murder and torturing a man using the five basic torture groups, and was subsequently convicted for my crimes. I'm currently serving a life sentence, and might get out after 25 years._

Jethro downed the glass and closed his eyes. This was not what he had expected to deal with so shortly after a difficult case. He was exhausted, but his mind wouldn't let him relax and this little bombshell wasn't helping. He sighed deeply and picked up the letter again. There was nothing to do but finish it.

_Don't worry G-Man, I'm not asking for any favors. I don't need money and I don't want you to pull any strings to get me out of here or reduce my sentence. I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be._

_The prison shrink suggested that writing to someone would help me deal with both my past and the enforced solitude in here. To be honest I'd rather send a letter to Sammy, but he's probably dead and in any case I wouldn't know where to send it even if he's somehow alive somewhere. _

_Not that I have an exact address for you either, but I'm taking a chance that your full name, 'US Marine' and a general D.C. address will make sure it reaches you at some point._

_If it doesn't, well. At least writing this filled a few hours where I could look at something other than my three walls and the cell door. _

_In any case, feel free to ignore me. I'm killing time instead of people now, and you have no obligations to me what-so-ever._

_Faith_

He has a daughter who is serving 25 to life in prison for torture and a double murder. His eyes were staring unseeingly at the letter in his hand.


	2. Electronical Trail

**Chapter 2: Electronical Trail**

The next morning saw him in the office bright and early. No one was in yet, so he could quietly do a quick search for his supposed daughter. Contrary to popular belief he did know how to use a computer. He was nowhere near Abby and McGee's level, but he knew how to get basic information on suspects. And this was the same thing; Faith was just another suspect. Even if her supposed "crime" was being his out of wedlock daughter.

Jethro used his security clearance to gain access to the search engines, and typed "Faith Lehane" and "Boston" in the appropriate fields. This would at the very least prove that she was who she claimed to be.

The screen obediently gave him the information he was looking for. She was born Faith Rodriguez to Christine Rodriguez and an unknown father on December 14th, 1980 in South Boston, Massachusetts. Her surname had been legally changed to Lehane in July, 1986 following an adoption by Samuel David Lehane – her mother's new husband. So far the letter had been correct.

He did some quick math in his head and came to the conclusion that he'd had to have met Christine sometime in February that same year, but he still couldn't remember her. It was strange, he had never been one for one night stands so any woman he'd had sex with was easily remembered. On the flip side he really had been in Boston at the time, and he and some Marine buddies had been celebrating. Celebrations that had included a number of bars. Crap.

Jethro had married Shannon in 1980, and they had been dating for nearly four years by then. He closed his eyes and put his head in his hands, he had cheated on Shannon. _Shannon_. Her smiling face flashed before his eyes and those lively and sympathetic green eyes changed into betrayal and disappointment.

After forcing his eyes open again he went back to his search. He needed more information before he continued down that road. Solid facts, he needed _solid facts_.

A quick inquiry got him Faith's arrest records from the Northern Californian Woman's Facility. As his eyes tracked the text on the screen it confirmed the more serious part of the letter: Faith Lehane had turned herself in after the police had sent out a warrant for her, and had subsequently confessed to a horrific list of violence.

On a somewhat positive note, she had said the original murder had been an accident and she had reacted in self-defense after several people had tried to attack her. Apparently a group of men had tried to mug her in a dark alley, and when the victim had entered it shortly afterwards she had attacked believing him to be one of those men. The man had simply been at the wrong place at the wrong time.

It seemed that the court had believed her on that account.

The second murder and the torture, on the other hand, were definitely premeditated. There was also a list of people she had attacked for no reason, including several young men at a dance club.

The parts that surprised Jethro the most, however, was that the torture victim, a British national named Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, had testified in Faith's defense in court. Mr. Wyndham-Pryce had also claimed that Faith had been his ward for a short time while he was living in Sunnydale, California. To his great annoyance there was no explanation as to why he got custody or why he lost it.

The prosecution had also tried to charge her with attempted murder of an Angel O'Connor, but those charges fell through when the man in question denied it. Mr. O'Connor had also testified in her defense.

Jethro fished the letter out of the inner pocket of his suit jacket and re-read it, and as he was about to put it down on his desk he noted that it was dated. In a small script in the upper right-hand corner was the date _June 13__th__, 2000_. Right below it was the words '_Stockton, California_'.

He blinked. The letter had circulated within the postal service for two years before reaching him.

He had just put his hands back on the keyboard when he heard the elevator ding, followed by a cheerful "morning, Boss!" from DiNozzo. He surreptitiously put Faith's letter in a drawer, signed out of the search engines, and closed the browser before he greeted the other agent.

It was going to be a long day, and on top of that he needed to decide on what he was going to do about Faith. Should he send a letter asking for more information, call, or ignore it all together?

The only way to find out for sure if this killer was his daughter was to get her to agree to a DNA test, and in order for that to happen he needed to get to know her a little. If for nothing else than his own peace of mind.

Another problem was that she had sent the letter two years ago, and at this point she had probably given up on him. Or at least probably thought it hadn't reached him and given up on contacting him.

His mind was still spinning with questions when the call came that they had a new case, and they all hurried off to the crime scene.


	3. A Flicker of Light in the Dark

**Chapter 3: A Flicker of Light in the Dark**

Faith's dreams had been confusing for the last month or so. Her subconscious, or her Slayerness maybe, had been telling her that B was dead, but at the same time her instincts had told her to remain where she was. It hadn't been until Angel had come for his weekly visit that her suspicions had been confirmed and he had told her that she was the only Slayer now.

They had proceeded to have a short, but low and intense, argument over whether or not she should stay in jail or break out. B's absence was bound to be noticed pretty quickly over there. After all, the blonde Slayer had always done regular patrols in Sunnydale's many and sundry cemeteries.

Faith had absently wondered if the other girl kept an eye on the obituaries or if she just made the rounds every night. She figured asking wouldn't be appreciated right now.

The two of them had reached a compromise when Faith had suggested that Angel should contact Giles and hear if there was a need for a Slayer at the Hellmouth or not. There was a chance that B's geeky sidekicks could handle things, and just call in Angel if they needed some extra muscle.

She probably shouldn't have been so relieved when he returned a week later and told her that, according to the Watcher, Sunnydale was usually calm in the summer but, he would be in contact if they needed her help.

There had apparently been some questions about how she knew about B's death and why she hadn't left already, but the only answer she had was "I just _know_". Somehow she didn't think Giles would be satisfied with that, but whatever.

This week's visit from the vampire had been rescheduled since he was out of town, and her Monday evening had been taken up by exercise and the usual staring at the walls instead.

Tuesday, however, brought a surprise in the form of a letter. Faith frowned at it, she was pretty sure she wasn't expecting anything. Not that she really got any mail, her lawyer and the freaky fan mail didn't count, but hey, she wasn't complaining. Almost anything was preferable to the monotony of the prison cell.

Her name and the address to the Facility were written in a definite male script, and when she flipped the envelope and read the return address she could feel her heart rate speed up. The addresser was a Jethro Gibbs, and beneath the name was an address in Washington, D.C.

She quickly tore open the flap of the envelope and pulled out a single piece of paper with the logo of something called "NCIS". She peered closer and saw that it was an abbreviation for the Naval Criminal Investigative Service.

He was a Navy cop? What happened to being a Marine?

She sat back down on her bunk, pulled her feet up, and began reading.

_Faith,_

_I don't remember a Christine Rodriguez and I definitely don't remember giving any girls my full name. However, I was in Boston around the time of your conception (Feb. 1980). _

_Could you tell me more about why she thought I was your father, and why she didn't contact me to find out for sure? _

Faith grimaced a little. How was she supposed to tell a Federal Agent he had gotten an underage girl pregnant? Or maybe the better question was why he hadn't looked at Christine's date of birth. Gibbs was a G-Man, he should've checked.

She absently eyed the ceiling while she took a deep breath before continuing.

_A basic background search on you turned up two legal guardians who had custody of you after your mother's death. Neither of them appears to be relatives, or even friends of your family. In fact they are both British Nationals who flew into the country right before they were given custody of you._

_Court records show that a Diana Dormer received emergency custody of you on March 16__th__, 1996 and that she lost it upon her death in October, 1998. Shortly afterwards it was granted to a Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, the same man you're convicted of torturing and who testified in your defense, despite the fact that you were 18 years old at the time._

Faith cursed creatively. She should've known he would catch that.

Diana had explained the Council's practice of taking full control of Potential Slayers on the day she moved in. That way they could dominate the girls' entire life. What she ate, when she slept, how she exercised, what knowledge she was taught. Where she went at any given time and why she went there. The list was nearly endless and depressing as fuck.

The Watcher had attempted to manage Faith's life, organize it into the schedule the Council had used on the Potentials for centuries with very few changes over the years.

Except that Faith was 16 and had been in charge of her own life for a long time and refused to be collard and go through obedience training with Diana Dormer and her Masters at the CoW holding the leash. And she told the woman as much.

There was no way she would allow the restrictions Dormer tried to impose on her. In the end they had found a middle ground; Faith got food, a roof over her head, and the freedom to go wherever she wanted in the evenings. In exchange Diana would be in charge of the mornings where she would teach Faith various combat styles, martial arts, melee weapons, and educate her on demons, vampires, and the Slayers that came before her.

_Why did you need a legal guardian when you were 18, and why is there no notification or explanation in your records? What happened to Miss Dormer?_

Oh, G-Man, she thought, leave it alone. There's nothing good down that way.

_In any case, I will come down to California if you agree to take a DNA test. _

_Gibbs_

Well, at least he seemed to have done his homework, she thought drily.


End file.
